Who is your neighbor?

At my mother's funeral, I read Luke 10:25-27. There was more than a touch of irony, though. Follow me on this one:

Luke 10:30-36 - (Jesus had just been asked "who is your neighbor?")

Jesus replied, “A man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho. He encountered thieves, who stripped him naked, beat him up, and left him near death. Now it just so happened that a priest was also going down the same road. When he saw the injured man, he crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. Likewise, a Levite came by that spot, saw the injured man, and crossed over to the other side of the road and went on his way. A Samaritan, who was on a journey, came to where the man was. But when he saw him, he was moved with compassion. The Samaritan went to him and bandaged his wounds, tending them with oil and wine. Then he placed the wounded man on his own donkey, took him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day, he took two full days’ worth of wages and gave them to the innkeeper. He said, ‘Take care of him, and when I return, I will pay you back for any additional costs.’ What do you think? Which one of these three was a neighbor to the man who encountered thieves?”

Now, Right Minded has drilled into us (those of us in his SS class) the fact that in Jesus' time, Samaritans were not looked kindly upon. No, it was worse than that, it was like how Hitler viewed the Jews. It was as bad as any of the racial tension that ever existed in America. Simply put: to the Jews, the Samaritans were outcasts.

So I thought it more than ironic that when my siblings and I were going through the pain that is the passing of a parent, a similar story took place.

To be fair, the church where my membership is did reach out to us: from the Evangelism Pastor - a man of the highest integrity; from the leader of the greeters (for whom my wife had volunteered for years), and of course from every member of our old Sunday School class (recently disbanded).

But this is the ironic part:
As we dealt with the grief, never once did I hear from a senior pastor. They simply crossed to the other side of the road.

As we dealt with the grief, a former member and one who wishes to pastor a congregation, not only "crossed to the other side," but actually sent proverbial kicks to a downed man with his disrespectful and unwarranted words.

But in comparison, a "pre-op" transgendered former coworker of my brother was there - not only the night of my mother's passing, but also at the funeral (a 150 mile drive) where he/she knew not a soul save me or my brother.

Modern day variation on the "Good Samaritan" story the way I see it.


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